GONE GIRL » Billy Hargrove

0.10 » worry

Again, sorry about the late update but I caught the flu and couldn't really look at a screen for more than 2 minutes until today ._.
Anyway I hope you guys will enjoy reading♡
[edit after season 3 because backstory]

tw!abuse mention

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Staring down into the mug I studied my blurry reflection; I remained quiet for a while, feeling his gaze from the side.

"My parents," I began, clearing my throat while sitting down properly. "My parents were really successful doctors, surgeons to be exact. They earned a ton of money, they had a ton of stress, and then suddenly that child that no one was planning for or even wanted was born. Basically, that meant much more stress. So they did the one smart thing to do when you have a whole lot of money and sent me to some really fancy daycare. Things were normal I guess, I made friends and everything. When I started school however I was the most annoying spoiled brat you can possibly imagine. People absolutely hated me, and honestly i can totally understand.
Middle school wasn't any better - I hung around the rich kids a lot and they didn't have the best influence on me, really. They were even worse than I was at the time, even though you wouldn't really think that's possible at all. But Middle school was just generally the beginning of all the things that were yet to come.
My dad started drinking. A lot. And he just became so awfully angry and aggressive all the time. At first he only yelled a lot and occasionally broke some furniture.
But when i started Freshman Year things got real bad. My mom started screwing all those other guys and my dad drank more and more, to the point where it was interfering with his work so much he was fired. That night he came home, yelled absolutely incomprehensible stuff and slapped me across the face a few times. That soon developed into something that happened several times a month, soon enough it was a weekly thing. And I went along with it. I endured it, hoping if I didn't object he would stop. But he didn't.
I was homeschooled after the first time one of the teachers asked about some bruises on my wrists.
It was easier that way. My mom didn't do anything about it either, she was probably happy it was me and not her he took his anger out on. I never went to the hospital since my parents both were of the opinion they'd be fine treating me at home. Just don't let anyone be suspicious about anything that was going on in our seemingly perfect family that couldn't afford anymore mishaps. And then in summer two years ago I just packed my things and left. I don't think they expected that. And it seems my dad has been looking for me for quite a while now. Either in order to bring me back, or end it, maybe make it look like I had been held captive and murdered so they could get some of the sympathy back they lost due to his drinking habits."

It was silent for a while, I didn't look up, thinking about whether I should apologise for talking too much.

"So frankly they only care about their own damn reputation and not about their child," He said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. I shrugged.

"It wasn't like they didn't care for me at all, in fact they always bought me everything if I just asked for it. But among all those things that they gave me, there was only one thing I ever needed, and never got."

"Love."

"Ding Ding Ding, we have a winner."

It remained silent for a little longer, so I got up and started picking up the shattered glass from the floor, not really caring whether the shards cut into my hands.

"My dad's the same," Billy suddenly said and I looked up at him. He had a blank expression on his face and his eyes seemed empty, like his mind was in a place far from here. "I honestly don't know if he's ever not been like this. My mom left because he ... hurt her." - "Does he hurt you?" I asked, placing the shards back on the floor before sitting back down next to him.

"Sometimes." His voice was slightly hoarse, as if he tried choking his own emotions down. "And the other times? Is it more of a ... mental thing?" He nodded, staring out of the window, not saying anything.

"So that's why you always act like such an asshole around other people. You want to be on top at school because somehow you need to compensate that at home you're being put down like this." - "Now that's a bit of a harsh way to put it." - "Am I wrong?" He frowned. "No."

I resumed picking up the glass, throwing it away along with the flowers and broken vase.

"Why are you here anyway?" I asked, rummaging through a drawer for the dog leash. I had decided to go for a little walk in the morning (with Loki of course) to go get some groceries. Maybe I would stop by at the Byers' house to see if they needed anything as well.

"I guess I was a little worried about you, after everything that happened at school. I dropped Max off at the Arcade and came over here to see whether you're fine." - "Don't worry about me, really. I'm used to it by now. Or at least I should be," I replied, trying to sound cheerful while I patted Lokis head, who seemed happy about the sudden attention.

"By the way ... I should probably go and pick up Max," Billy exclaimed after a while, getting up without having touched his tea even once.

I quickly grabbed a cigarette and lighter from my jacket and followed him to the door, lighting the cigarette on the way there. He turned around, raising an eyebrow, while Loki came running after us, panting.

"What?"

"You don't come across as someone who smokes." - "Well I don't come across as someone who has a gun hidden under their couch just in case the abusive father pays a visit either, now do I?" - "Fair enough," He scoffed, almost laughing.

"You're gonna be alright here?" I nodded, running a hand through my hair as he walked towards his car.

"Hey Billy!" He turned around again, the door already opened. "Thank you," I said, smiling.

"Anytime."